Mine
by Natsu.Arisu
Summary: Bakura puts his desire for Malik into play. He's determined to own him, forever and ever. Guro-ish. Inspired by A Little Piece of Heaven by A7X.


(A/N:) Originally posted on dA, blah blah. Enjoy your guro. Ish. Wrote for Halloween last year.

* * *

"You're such a pretty little thing," he crooned. His eyes glowed with lust, and his mouth pulled into a twisted smile.

The one across from him, hands bound behind his back, muffled something behind the gag.

"Hm? I can't hear that pretty voice of yours, you know," he teased. With one movement of the hand, he untied the gag.

The other was panting from exhaustion. He screamed at the top of his lungs, "You fucking psycho!!!"

He feigned an insulted look on his face. "Aww, that's no way to talk to someone. Especially _me_…" He tipped the other's chin up with his index finger, the lust still showing in his crimson-tinged eyes. "Let's not call me such names." The twisted smile on his face returned.

"Touch me and die," the other scowled.

"Oh, I don't think you're one to be talking like that, considering your current state." His finger tipped up farther and went past the other's chin.

His violet eyes shot an intense glare at him. "I'm only like this because of you, psycho." His head throbbed with every breath he took, every word he spoke.

His frown was real this time. "I thought I said not to call me that," he said, voice dripping with disappointment. "I was going to make it quick and over with, but I guess I'll have to go slowly this time to extend your suffering." He wore a disapproving look, but his eyes were glowing with malevolence.

"W-what…?" His breathing was becoming labored now, and he felt like he was going to pass out again. His violet eyes caught a silver gleam at his side. Fear suddenly struck, and he realized what was going to happen. His face turned pallid. "Oh…o-oh god no…"

His twisted smile turned into a grin. "Yes," he stated. "Yes, imagine the worst. Imagine what the worst case scenario would be." His grin became wilder for a second, but went back to a small smile. "Of course, I could always tell you _exactly_ what would happen…" He leaned into the other's face menacingly. The white bangs shadowing over his eyes seemed to add more effect. "Would you like to know _exactly_ what will happen to that pretty little body of yours?"

The other's head shook vigorously as he struggled in a vain attempt to get away. "No, no, no, no, no, _no_…!"

Skillfully and quickly, he fastened the gag back around the other's mouth. "There's no use in resisting," he said.

The blonde ignored his words and continued struggling. He stopped when he felt a cool, metal blade at his neck.

"Move any more and your pretty throat will go first."

His eyes narrowed. He hated—no, _loathed_ the fact that he was even using that word…"_pretty_"…He mentally scoffed.

"No…that's wrong," the man said, as if he was just realizing this. "It won't be your throat first…maybe your wrists first? Or your ankles! But now that I think about it, maybe your throat is a good idea." He smiled as if this was the greatest idea to ever dawn on him.

Violet eyes narrowed in disgust. _You sick bastard,_ he thought.

"Hmph," he said, as if the other had said the words out loud. His crimson eyes flickered to the right for a brief moment before looking back at the violet eyes. "So sorry, but we're a bit off schedule. I can't afford to lose any more time."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment.

"It's time to say goodbye, now."

His violet eyes widened in realization and panic. If it weren't for the knife at his neck, he would've shaken his head violently. The white-haired man saw the protesting pleas in his violet eyes, though.

"I know, it's such a shame. I won't be able to hear that little melody called your voice anymore. However…" He reached behind his head, getting ready to untie the gag once more. "I can always remember your symphony of screams…"

An insane grin.

Eyes wide as the moon.

A flick of the wrist, cloth falling to the floor.

A flick of the wrist, blade touching flesh.

A scream.

* * *

Bakura hummed as he worked his way through flesh and bone. A small tune he had once heard crossed his mind, and he started to hum and quietly sing the melody.

_'Cuz I really always knew that my little crime,_

_Would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs._

_And I know, I know it's not your time,_

_But bye bye!_

He wasn't much of a singer, but he was in a good mood and didn't care. Well, a good mood for him, at least.

Working his knife through the limb, he separated arm from shoulder. He could keep the body more easily this way.

Malik was his now. Malik Ishtar was his and only his! The thought excited him. He would always have him, now.

And the memories! Oh, the sweet memories. That terrified, struggled scream as he made a slit in his throat; that intense fear in his eyes; the choked gasp as tears poured from the agony and the feeling of life slipping away…All for Bakura, and Bakura _alone_ to have the satisfaction of remembering. He would never forget it.

He would never forgive himself for forgetting it if he ever did so.

"Pretty, pretty, Malik. All mine, all mine," he said in a sort of singsong voice. "All mine, for me alone to have and adore." He smiled to himself. Glancing over at the unmoving, cold body that was left, he tilted his head to the side in contentment. Malik wouldn't resist anymore, and he wouldn't protest to the white-haired man's words.

He picked up the head. The violet eyes were wide open, with the look of terror still plastered on the blonde's face.

Bakura's smile spread farther across his face.

"All mine, forever and ever."


End file.
